The Professor's Vengeance
by IrregularHonour
Summary: The Final Problem" told from Professor Moriarty's perspective. Character death at the end. Please feel free to let me know your opinion.


**Disclaimer: **I wish to acknowlege that the characters of Sherlock Holmes, Professor Moriarty and Colonel Moran were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I've also based my story-line upon Doyle's plot for "The Final Problem."

**The Professor's Vengeance**

* * *

I grimaced across at the man thoughtfully. "No, that is too unsafe. If we want to get those documents we shall have to be more cunning. There is that upstart detective who has been meddlesome, and I cannot risk arousing his suspicions. You must do it my way, or no way at all- and I get fifty percent of the profits."

"Forty." the man haggled.

"Fifty," I returned imperturbably. "My rate never varies- not even for you, Maddons. I am the very best there is, and if you wish for quality service, you must pay for it. It is not unreasonable."

Maddons sighed. "I see I have no choice. Very well, am I to expect delivery of the treaty by Monday?"

I pursed my lips, weighing the difficulties in my mind. "Yes," I said slowly, "expect it by Monday."

As my client turned to leave, he stopped and looked back at me. "About this detective you mentioned, Professor-" he began.

"Do not worry," I interrupted. "I shall take care of him."

Maddons made a sharp slicing movement across his neck with his thumb and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. I gave a slight nod and smiled pleasantly. "I have my own methods, even as Holmes has his."

"Not Sherlock Holmes!" Maddons ejaculated.

I smiled at the expression of terror that flitted across his features. "You have nothing to fear, Maddons."

"But Sherlock Holmes is dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as I am." I retorted coolly.

Maddons' lips quirked slightly. "I can well believe that!" He responded. "I'm glad you're on our side."

Pressing my hand in his own, my client left me and returned to his hotel.

* * *

I glanced across at Colonel Moran. He was lighting his pipe and staring nonchalantly at the man before us. Sensing my thoughts, he turned his attention toward me.

"It seems as though more than just ordinary means are required to dispose of this fellow, Professor. He is proving to be quite a problem."

"Too much of a problem!" I snapped. "Holmes is beginning to seriously inconvenience my plans. Not only have we lost the treaty but now my position is threatened. First, Maddons was arrested, then Branks, and now Lyde. The loss of these men has been a severe blow, Moran. They all held key positions in my organisation. Sherlock Holmes is getting too clever for his own good. Only this morning I paid him a visit - "

"You what, Professor!?" Moran interrupted.

I ignored him. "As I was saying, I paid him a visit this morning. I have not overrated his intelligence. The man is as sharp as a razor. In a way, I have almost enjoyed the intellectual problem with which he has challenged me. It is a pity he is so stubborn. However, this must not continue. Moran, I want you to set after him tonight with the air-gun. Jonas-" I nodded to the man who stood before us "- see if you can learn how the evidence against Maddons and Lyde was obtained. You need not worry about Branks, the man made a blunder and has paid for it, but I must know how Holmes learned of the others. There has to be a leak, and it is essential that we find it. Now go."

After they left, I rose and paced the floor of my study in silent frustration. I held a hearty respect for my antagonist; however, as I brooded, my admiration for Sherlock Holmes slowly disintegrated under a rising tide of fury. The detective had shaken the very structure of my organisation through his deductive prowess. I would see to it that he would pay dearly for his impudence.

* * *

"They've gone to see the Reichenbach Falls." The Swiss lad was eyeing the banknote I held temptingly between my fingers.

"You've earned your keep." I said approvingly, handing him the note. "However, there is one last job I have for you." The boy nodded eagerly. "I want you- " I was scribbling a message rapidly upon a scrap of paper. " - to give this to the stocky man with the moustache."

The boy took the message and swiftly vanished up the track leading to the waterfall.

I clenched my fists into tight balls in a frenzy of impatience. Up there, just out of sight, was the man who had caused my ruin and downfall. In spite of all my efforts, Sherlock Holmes had shattered my organisation. It was unthinkable- incomprehensible- that one man should bring about the destruction of an entire empire. The rage bubbled up within my being. Only one thing was left to me now. I would never rest until I had my vengeance. Sherlock Holmes would pay with his life for the decimation of my kingdom. Finally I saw the sturdy figure of Dr. Watson hastening down the pathway.

Here was the chance for which I had waited. I began to walk rapidly up the track toward the Falls. He would be there- waiting. Sherlock Holmes was no fool. My note to Watson would not have deceived him. Holmes had let Watson go deliberately in anticipation of our inevitable encounter. It was almost as though he were as eager for the confrontation as I. My lips tightened into a thin band.

* * *

At last my enemy was before me. Sherlock Holmes was leaning with his back against a rock, gazing down into the mighty waterfall.

He raised his hand in languid greeting. "Ah! Moriarty, I was expecting you. Have you come to see the Falls? Really, your effort has not been wasted, for it is a splendid view." He spoke jocularly, but there was an awareness in his eyes which belied his tone.

He straightened and faced me. Sherlock Holmes made an impressive figure. While not particularly handsome, there was that in his piercing gray eyes and erect posture which commanded respect and attention. I found myself marvelling inwardly at his self-control. He could not doubt my intent and yet his manner remained one of complete indifference.

I could not say the same of myself, however. My blood was racing and I felt a curious faintness. "Soon..." I told myself, "but not yet."

With the candour that was typical of his character, Sherlock Holmes was asking for an elaboration of certain methods I employed in avoidance of Scotland Yard. He seemed more amused than surprised by my responses.

"You have certain intellectual qualities that have made it a pleasure to have grappled with you." He startled me by saying when I finished. "I never had a more worthy opponent." I bowed sardonically, but said nothing. "You will allow me, I hope, a final word to Watson? He will be most disappointed at not having enjoyed the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

I nodded my reply, and Sherlock Holmes started jotting something down in his notebook. Having completed his message, he tore the leaf out and placed it on a rock under his cigar-case.

It was time....

* * *

Moriarty felt Holmes slip through his grasp. A clump of earth broke away under his heel and he staggered backwards. His fingers clawed at the air as he strove in a desperate bid to regain his balance. It was too late. For one final moment, his gaze locked with the Great Detective's. And then the Professor fell- his inhuman scream merging with the mighty rush of the waterfall.

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